


My Name Is The Moon

by lovehate_heartbreak



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Destroy option with a HAPPY FRICKEN ENDING, Geth are our friends, Hero Worship, Love, OC won't shut up in author's head, POV First Person, Post-Mass Effect 3, Post-Reaper War, Set many years post Reaper War, Turian/human hybrid OC, secret project
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovehate_heartbreak/pseuds/lovehate_heartbreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many years after the Reapers have been destroyed, the Alliance puts the finishing touches on their secret project. One that only the highest officials within the Earth's government and a select few individuals know of. But this isn't a weapon or a new starship based off the remnants of the Reapers. It is a person. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-My first fic. Constructive criticism welcome. Be gentle please. Mature rating for language and some nudity. Hope you all enjoy!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I am alive.

That was the initial thought that came to mind when I first became aware of myself. I can move these things attached to me. Arms? Oh, that's what they're called. And legs, fingers, and toes too? Wow, that's a lot to coordinate, but I think I can get the hang of it.

Wait... Who are you? How are you telling me these things? ... Asari... Oh, you're speaking in my mind? How strange... 

I have so many questions. Who am I? What am I? Why am I here? What are these things growing from my body? Can I see you? 

~*~*~*~*~

My name is Menae, and that was just three months ago. I am a hybrid of a Turian and a human. From what I'm told, they were heroes in a war fought by every species in the galaxy. The human, a woman, is a highly decorated officer in the Alliance. A military and the acting planetary government for the planet Earth. They were the ones that created me in secret. And the Turian is now the leader of his race. A Primarch I think he's called. 

As for my purpose? Well, that's complicated. I will try to explain as best I can.

At first, the Alliance wanted to see if it were possible to create a being from levo and dextro DNA. The premise was to give interspecies couples of different amino acids hope that they could have children through artificial means. I am not the only one they created. I am just the only one that didn't die. 

They found that there is a key element that kept me alive where others died: Reaper based technology. The sample DNA they used for the others inside the tank I was grown in didn't have the artificial influence that mine did. So they simply withered into nothing before their hearts even made their first beat. 

They brought in two people with extensive genetic background after so many failed attempts. Maelon Heplorn, a Salarian geneticist that worked on both the Genophage Modification project some many years ago, and Miranda Lawson. 

I never got to meet Maelon. He died a few years before I was taken out of the special tank the Alliance acquired before the Reaper War. Though I was told he said my creation was "to make up for atrocities" he had committed before the war. No one knew what he meant. Or if they did, they haven't told me. Though I have been told he was a brilliant mind. He was the one who created a saline type of fluid to add to my tank during the critical stages of my development. It helped my body to properly form and work with the opposing types of amino acids my donors have.

Miranda Lawson, I'm told, was brought in soon after Maelon. She used to work for this organization called Cerberus as an operative and scientist. The Alliance asked her to join the project when they discovered she had headed something called the Lazarus Project. I still don't know what it was about, but apparently it was big enough for the Alliance to ask for her help. Brilliant is the first word that comes to mind when I think about her now. Bitch was what I initially thought of her. Cold and unfeeling were close seconds. And there are still times I think that of her. But that's only in certain instances.

She was the one that oversaw my development in the tank. Whenever something began to develop wrong, or my vitals would go out of normal range, Miranda was the one that worked long hours to make sure I survived and didn't look hideous. I owe a lot to her genius.

My purpose, from everything that it took to create me, began to develop into many different things over time beyond just seeing if it could be done. It showed that the Reapers had a lot more to offer still the denizens of the galaxy. That it was possible to do the impossible. Though the phrase "playing God" I've heard come out of more than a few people since I came from the tank.

So, in a nutshell, my purpose is just complicated with the idea that people can be made happy. But I've been told the road to Hell is paved with the best intentions. Whatever that means.

I don't care what people think of me or how they feel about how I came about. I'm just grateful I'm alive. I know that I am lucky to have had Maelon and have Miranda work long hours to make sure I have this chance at life. I don't plan on letting them down. 

By now you must be wondering just what it is that I do. Well, it's simple really. I learn and I train. Thanks to my Turian side, I have the second larynx that allows me to have subvocals. I know English thanks to Miranda, but I also speak Basic Pavlian. My Turian instructor, a matronly female by the name of Kirrie, says that I speak it like it's my first language. 

She's also the one that taught me to use my subvocals to express myself in a much more Turian way. That was harder to learn than Pavlian. But I got the hang of it quickly. Now I hum my feelings when I don't want humans to know what I think. The few Turian officers and scientists that I know find it humorous for some reason. Maybe one day I'll find out why.

Along with my lessons, I train daily. I don't want to be the Alliance's pet project. I want to contribute to it. I want to make a difference like my mother and father did. Admiral Anderson trains me personally. He's hard on me, but I don't care. Every time I miss a target time or can't seem to continue on, he pushes me to do better. To expect better of myself. He may not walk, but that man can run circles around me. Most days I do well just to keep up with him, but I know he does it for my benefit.

Some days, though, his training doesn't involve physical training. It's those days I look forward to if I'm being honest. He tests my puzzle solving and strategizing skills. Giving me things to solve or showing me scenarios on a board, or sometimes a holoscreen he got working, that I have to think of the best possible way to accomplish my objective. 

And at the end of each training session, he tells me a story about his service. Stories about places he's gone, things he's seen or done, and about how the galaxy used to be. 

Then one day, he has me sit with him and he tells me about my parents. About the times he spent with my mother in service and about her sevice with the Alliance as a whole. He tells me of my father and what he knows of the man. They, in my mind, are awe inspiring. 

Alicia Shepard and Garrus Vakarian. The first human Spectre and a C-Sec turned vigilante that became the head of the Reaper Task Force for Palaven. The stories of their missions in the hunt for rogue Spectre Saren Arterius, the fight against a species called the Collectors, and the things they did during the Reaper War made me feel honored to be their child. It makes me want to do them proud. 

"I can't wait to meet them." I say, the mandibles against my jaw spreading as I smile brightly at my mentor. "When will they be by to check on me? No one has told me."

His expression turns into that of a soft, sad smile. And as he speaks, my smile fades into a frown as I look down at my four digit hands. My dark auburn hair slides down around the sides of my face and over my brow plates as tears sting my eyes. The news breaks my heart. I never expected what he said.

"Menae.." He had began, folding his hands in his lap, "They won't be coming to check on you. I know you've been told about the ones that came before you. That the people that gave their DNA knew what was going on. It's time you know the truth. At least your truth." He had paused then. That's when my heart broke. That's when I knew he was going to tell me that horrible truth. "Admiral Shepard and Primarch Vakarian don't know that the Alliance had the project to mix species the way they did. They don't even know you exist."


	2. Chapter 2

I hate medical exams. With a fiery burning passion. There's much better ways to pass my time productively than to sit on a cold, aluminum table, naked at that, while doctors and scientists test every single conceivable thing they can think of. Why they make me go through this at my six month mark all at once I don't think I'll ever know.

I think I'd rather fight one of those Thresher Maw things I've read about. 

Wires with sensor pads are stuck to my chest and stomach to measure and record my vitals. More sensors are stuck to my legs, arms, and along my spine to test my...what was it? Oh yeah, nerve receptor thingies. Basically I guess to make sure I can feel those damn needles they love to poke me with.

"Can you feel this?" One Asari doctor asked me. I so badly wanted to kick her in the face when she stuck the needle into a spot between my inner and middle toes. Yes, I feel it! That fricken hurts, you blue and purple bitch! But, I digress. I simply growled at her in a way that made her finally, blessedly stop.

The most embarrassing aspect of the exams are the gynecologists. A Turian male, of all people, and a human female that feel my chest and perform an internal exam (thankfully the woman does that part) to make sure my body has adapted both human and turian reproductive organs correctly. I can't begin to describe how uncomfortable it was the first, and only, time he did my internal exam. He has these huge talons that really should be illegal. Yeah, he put these clear plastic caps that covered his talons and first knuckles before he put on the gloves, but man! I thought he was going to puncture something.

I understand why they have to. It's part of me being healthy and blah blah blah. But do they have to be so...so...intrusive? I like my personal parts untouched thank you very much.

The rest of the physical exam is done by another human and turian pair. Thankfully, they let me put on a supportive top (human bras don't fit right thanks to my rib cage, subdued cowl, and keel) and a pair of stretchy shorts Turians wear. It's routine from here, testing my involuntary reflexes and how my plates are toughening. You know, the stuff kids go through as they grow up. 

"Can I go now?" I ask, my subvocals rumbling my displeasure at having to sit in one room for almost six hours now. I don't even care if they think I'm whining. I want to go DO something!

The turian, Dr. Torfah, chuckles softly at my patience. She and the other doctor, Dr. Beauve, write down a few more notes before the women turn to me with a smile.

"You're free to go." Dr. Beauve says as she hands me my Alliance casuals. "Everything looks good. Your bone structure looks great despite the mixed heritage. Your plates have finished hardening and have a beautiful silver shine. And you've passed all your sensory tests." She looked over the notes they share and makes a quick note. "I would like for you to wear light supports for your ankle along with your breather when you decide to run. I will be forwarding Anderson and Miss Lawson your examination results."

I can't get into my clothes fast enough. Finally freedom! Though I can't help but curse the fact they knew I would forget to put that stupid breather on. 

After a quickly spoken thanks and a promise to wear my breather, I dash out of the room and toward the main door of the complex. Today was going to be exciting. Admiral Anderson said he was going to take me to see something special. But every attempt to weasel it out of him was met with a light chuckle and "You'll see." I am not a patient person, so the last week has been torture.

When I get into view of the front doors, I see the familiar wheelchair and figure of Anderson in his old Alliance fatigues talking with a tall, silver haired man with stern features. At my angle, I can see an old scar marring the older man's face. He's dressed in black slacks, a light blue button down shirt left open at the neck, and black dress shoes shined to the high gloss that screams life long military. His sharp blue eyes shift up to spot my approach and he nods his head in my direction. Anderson spins his chair around enough so he can turn his head to see me. What had they been talking about?

"Menae! Glad to see they finally let you out." Anderson smiles warmly and motions to the older man next to him. "I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine. Admiral Steven Hackett. Sir, this is Menae. She's the one I was just telling you about."

"Retired admiral." Hackett said, his voice rough from age and too much stress, and extends a hand to me in greeting. "Just call me Hackett if you would."

"Pleased to meet you, sir." I say and shake his hand with a respective nod of my head. "Anderson has told me a lot about you and your two's service together."

"Really now?" One silvery brow arches in question and interest. He looks down at Anderson and a smirk born of many years of brotherhood briefly touches his wrinkled face. "Been telling tall tales again?"

"Only when they make me look good." Anderson quips back. I can't help but hum my amusement. There was an obvious bond between the two men. Forged in the fires of the hell of the battlefield and many days and nights of conversations and shared grief no doubt. 

He then looks up at me and hands me my breather. Where on Earth had he hidden that horrible thing? "Put it on and follow me. We're going on a trip."

"A trip?" I ask, my voice sounding funny through the speaker as it automatically seals tightly around my face. I flex my mandibles to make sure I can move them somewhat comfortably and adjust it on the bridge of my nose. "A trip to where?"

He begins to wheel out the automated doors as he continues on explaining something I couldn't hear. The sight before me made me stop and gawk. 

I have been outside before in a carefully guarded enclosed courtyard. It's vital to my lungs adapting to the air outside the walls of the complex so I can survive in case my breather fails or gets broken. But the view facing out was of a lake, forest, and a small suburb off in the distance. I had no idea we were inside a city!

The concrete and glass buildings seemed to reach endlessly into the sky decorated sparsely with white, fluffy clouds. I can hear the faint wooshing of cars flying through the city and catch glimpses of some here and there. Though most of which were the Alliance colors. Showing that where we were is heavily patrolled. But, despite the fact that the city was busy and had occupants going about their daily lives, there were still signs of ongoing recovery from the war that nearly destroyed the galaxy. I can make out a few of the taller buildings have crews putting finishing touches on the tops in various places. I know it's been at least fifteen years since the Reapers fell. So why are they still building? I make a mental note to ask Anderson at some point soon. 

"Wow..." Was all I could imagine to say, but it felt terribly inaccurate as to the extent of my awe. Pictures really did this no justice.

A clearing of a throat brought me out of my reverie and I blushed in embarrassment. "Did you hear what I said?" Anderson asked sternly, but the mirth I saw sparkling in his eyes told me he found my distraction humorous.

"No, sir. I'm sorry." I say and clasp my hands at the small of my back.

He shook his head and continued to wheel over to a waiting shuttle. "I said today we are going to see something from the Reaper War. A kind of monument if you will." Hackett strode silently beside us until we got close to the shuttle. He took a few quick strides forward and opened the side door that automatically extended a ramp for Anderson to roll up. "I think you will really appreciate it."

My heart jumps in excitement. "Are we going to the memorial wall or gardens?" I ask, always having wanted to go to those places.

"If we have time, but we're on a schedule. And we've already made our guides wait longer than I told them." He responds as he engages the locks on the floor to keep his chair in place.

Hackett, who had been silent, strapped himself down before he finally spoke up. "This place is more important than the memorial wall and gardens. More important, even, than the site where the Citadel beam connected to Earth." He straightened his jacket and held on to the handle mounted on the bulkhead as the shuttle took off and flew swiftly through the air.

My mind began to whirl in possibilities. Anderson had told me of many places of importance on Earth from the war. They had been the first race to be invaded and keep the Reapers at bay. Well...at bay as best as possible anyways. There was the new Arcturus Station built from much of the salvaged remains of the original. The lunar sites where the Reapers had landed and held positions. The site where the first Reaper landed on Earth. Truthfully there were too many to name to really get an idea of where exactly we were headed. I just wish they would give me something of a hint as to exactly where we were headed./p>

After what felt like hours, I felt the shuttle land with a gentle thud and quickly unhooked the harness around me. Standing, I waited impatiently for the door to open and for Anderson and Hackett to step out first. It didn't matter how excited I was to see where we were. Being respectful was always the highest priority. 

If the city was a sight to see, what lay before me was just out of a dream. It had to be. 

A sleek, tapered bow widened into an aft that sported four rectangular thrusters. The hull at a glance looked to be a silvery white with black and Alliance blue stripes painted along the sides. But the longer I stared, I began to realize the armor had a faint yellow hue to it. The Alliance insignia was emblazoned on the very front of the ship and bold white lettering laid inside the thick, black stripe that followed the flowing design from stem to stern. Despite that it sat clearly unused for years if the carefully tended landscaping around it is any indicator of how long it has been here, I can tell from the steps taken from the outside that it was just waiting to be put to use, any use, again.

A man, shorter than Hackett, in jeans broken in blue jeans and a plain, dark gray t-shirt hobbled over to them leaning heavily on a shiny aluminum cane. His face was adorned with stress and age lines but his eyes were young and sharp. He seemed to have a permanent, faint smirk on his lips and stopped just a handful of feet from us. He reached up and tipped his hat respectfully at the three of us, the bill tattered and worn and the stitching of the letters "SR-2" dirty and frayed from obvious age.

"I wondered when you all would get here." He said with a smile. "EDI's been going crazy over the fact you were running behind."

"Sorry, Joker. Menae got hung up with her medical eval." Anderson said, though his voice only faintly reflected his apology, then he turned to me. "Menae, I want you to meet the best flight lieutenant the Alliance has ever seen. Meet Jeff Moreau."

"Joker." He said and extended a hand to me, his smile turning into a smug smirk. "And I'm not just the best. I'm a damn legend. No one can do the things I've done, and no one ever will."

I laugh as I shake his hand in greeting and listen as the three men talk. So much history was between them. It was obvious to anyone who watched them for more than a few minutes. I can only imagine everything they've been through.

As they talked, we all walked toward the ship. I was only half way listening as my eyes fell on the cannons mounted on the belly of the frigate. 'Thanix cannons?' I wonder, curious how they had been installed since the Turian Hierarchy didn't publically release the licenses for purchase until after the war. Even if the installation had been a product of the war, they would have been hard to get.

"Menae," I hear my name and snap my head to the one who spoke. It was Joker. He had a big smile on his face as he hit a few buttons on the hull. The airlock door hissed as it opened to admit them inside.

"Welcome to the Normandy."


	3. Chapter 3

It felt like this was all a dream. Here I was standing in the CIC of the most famous frigate in the galaxy! I wander around the spacious interior completely in awe. I don't care that I probably should stay close to Anderson and Hackett and listen to whatever it is they have to tell me. I want to see everything for myself. 

It was obvious that quite a bit of the interfaces had at one time or another been replaced. Some looked newer than others. I also spotted small places here and there that were obviously from before the SR-2 was brought to the Alliance. Every now and again, I can spot an odd black and gold symbol. Though I can understand why. They were in small, inconspicuous places along the console boards and on the ribs of the ship. 

I wander over to a platform and step up to see a huge hologram of the Milky Way galaxy pop up before me. Places are dotted and labeled with names. This has to be how they determined where they wanted to go while out in space. It had to be. Otherwise, what use would a map of the galaxy be for? I reach out to touch a system called Hourglass Nebula, and the hologram zooms in to show a beautiful depiction of the nebula and the different star systems within. 

"This is so cool." I whisper to myself, my mandibles flexing outward against the walls of the breather from my smile. I want so badly to go and see if the nebula really looked that beautiful. To see all the different planets that orbited the stars within it. But I settled with fiddling with the map to see everything I couldn't go to myself.

"I can give you a tutorial in how the galaxy map works and how it comminucates with the display in the cockpit." A feminine voice said from behind me. "I can also show you systems and tell you about the planets within that may interest you."

I gasp in surprise and spin about so fast a sense of vertigo came over me briefly. Standing at the yeoman station is a metallic woman with a holographic visor across her synthetic eyes. I tilt my head in confusion. She was clearly a droid with some kind of artificial intell.... Then it clicked. 

"You're EDI!" I exclaim excitedly. I know my eyes had to reflect the sheer awe I felt at meeting the ship's AI. I couldn't believe it. Not only do I get to meet Hackett and Joker and see the Normandy, but I also get to meet her!

"That is correct." She said with a short nod. The servos in her arms whirred softly as she motioned toward the galaxy map to draw attention back to it. "Would you like me to give you instructions on how to use it?"

I couldn't answer right away. The starstruck feeling still trying to wane a bit for me to be able to think properly. I slide a side glance back at where the men had been and noticed they had moved further up the ship toward the cockpit. It looked like they were in deep conversation about something important. I can only guess as to what it was

"Actually," I drawl, hoping this is my chance to do a bit more exploring on my own, "I was wondering about the rest of the ship. Could you show me?" I twist my left middle finger with my right hand uncertainly. Maybe I was asking too much or Anderson had told her to make sure I stay in the CIC? He always has kept a close eye on me. I know he does it because he worries, but when would I get the chance to see this place again?

EDI seemed to contemplate my question, weighing the options of me exploring, albeit supervised, versus staying where Anderson no doubt wanting me to. I really hope she takes me around. And what better way to really get to know about the ship than by it's own AI? I can't think of a better person honestly.

Then she gave another affirmative nod and the elevator door opened. "I suppose that would be acceptable. Admiral Anderson would be pleased of your learning more about the Normandy. If you will enter the elevator, we can begin."

I all but run to the open elevator. This is great! But when I notice her not moving to follow, I tilt my head to the side in question. "Aren't you coming too?" I ask, the speaker on my breather doing a poor job projecting my confusion. What good was a guide if they didn't come along.

"I am still part of the ship." She says matter of factly. "Even though this platform will remain in the CIC with the admirals and Joker, I can still give you direction anywhere in the ship. Just choose a floor on the pad behind you and we can begin."

Now I felt a bit stupid. Of course she can do that. She is apart of the Normandy after all. So with that reminder stuck firmly in my mind, I turn to the orange interface on the wall of the elevator and hit the button for the fifth floor. 

It was possibly the longest elevator ride of my life. You would think the ship was bottomless for how long it took the doors to finally slide open to a wide expanse of ship. I don't think I'll ever understand the rationale behind making it go so slowly other than to aggravate the people who used to serve here. "With all the advances we had when this thing was built, you'd think that would be faster." I grumble beneath my breath as I step out of the smaller confines into what looked to be the cargo hold.

"This is the shuttle bay." EDI's voice echoes off the bulkheads as I slowly turn a walking circle to see everything around me. "During the Reaper War, Lieutenant James Vega and shuttle pilot Lieutenant Steve Cortez were assigned the stations of armory and shuttle upkeep and repair. The boards before you as you step inside were used for requisition of supplies and equipment upgrades. Lieutenant Cortez also used if diagnostic analysis of the M-44A Kodiak shuttle. Lieutenant Vega's responsibilities included stocking and maintaining the armory. He was charged with cleaning both weapons and armor and making any necessary repairs between missions." 

The shuttle in question sat to the right of the hanger. Black scorch marks and bullet holes marred the blue paint and white stripes. I can't help but wonder why no one bothered to repair the shuttle when it was obvious they had repaired the frigate. Wasn't it just as important as the ship? It did take soldiers to the war zones and get them back out safely. Maybe this Cortez person wanted it like this as a reminder? Though why anyone would want that kind of reminder is beyond me.

Aside from the panels and the scarred up shuttle, the hold was empty. Whatever else had been in here had been moved out long ago. Though I can imagine this space being filled with crates of supplies and the rush to get suited up and armed as a squad made ready for a mission. The people that must have come through here! What I wouldn't give to be able to see a glimpse of what it was like way back when.

With EDI not offering anything else of interest to say, I make my way back to the elevator to suffer through yet another ride up to the next floor. 

When I step off, I immediately notice there is a view overlooking the cargo hold. Though I can't see below me as it hangs out slightly over the entrance, I can still easily see quite a bit of the area below. 'Excellent sniper perch.' I observe, through why that came to mind, I really have no clue.

"I must apologize, but the engineering deck is off-limits to civilians. There is nothing of interest on this floor." EDI said and I sigh in disappointment. Though I'm not exactly passionate about ship engines, it would have been cool to see the heart of the Normandy. So I simply turn and ride the elevator up to the third floor.

The wall as I step out, the small wall of names before me immediately grabs my attention. Though it really was hard to not want to see it. 

"EDI, who are all these people?" I ask, scanning over the many names listed off. It reminded me of the massive memorial wall next to the Alliance HQ I had seen in pictures. But, by some of the names, I can tell not everyone here was Alliance.

"This is the Normandy memorial wall. Every person, no matter the species, that has served on the Normandy from the SR-1 until the end of the war and died has been listed here." Came the synthetic female voice. "Most of the names are former Alliance. Though some were not. For example: Legion was a Geth who fought with Commander Shepard against the Collectors. He also fought with the commander again during the war for Rannoch. He sacrificed himself to give the Geth true artificial intelligence and independent personalities." I found the name on the wall as she spoke and find myself feeling sad for Legion. I don't know much about the Geth, but I got to meet one at my four month evaluation. It seemed genuinely curious about everything concerning me. And through my sheer annoyance at the doctors, I found its curiosity adorable. 

I was brought out of my mental ramblings when I heard EDI continue. "Though the Normandy was and always will be an Alliance ship, the crew from the beginning were more than just shipmates and comrades. They were a family. This is just a small way that the crew can remember everyone they lost."

Family. I can't help the sad frown at mention of the word. What was a family? What was it like? I walk through the rest of the crew deck (save for life support, the AI core, and the main battery) only half listening to EDI explain everything. I can't help my inner mullings over something that shouldn't bother me but does. 

I guess if I really thought about it I do have a family. Anderson is like a father to me with his lessons and training and pushing me to do better every day. Miranda was like a very strict mother in a weird sort of way. She is the one constantly looking out for me and what's in my best interest no matter what it was. I'm pretty sure she had her say about my coming here, but if she didn't think it was best, it was clear her protests fell on deaf ears. But that was about the extent of my family. No siblings unless I counted all the dead attempts at life. No aunts or uncles. No grandparents.

I made my way back to the elevator with my arms crossing across my slender waist and hip spurs. It was the one thing I wanted almost more than anything, but knew I would never get. I want to be part of a family. A real family. One that I can bicker and argue with, get mad at and not speak to for a long time, and spend holidays with. But I know that won't happen. My only family doesn't even know I exist.

As the doors open up to a small space with a single doorway, I mindlessly walk through the door with the green indicator and go to lay down on the bed. Somewhere in the back of my mind I make a note that I am in Commander Shepard's cabin. I should be excited and trying to see if there may have been something left behind that I could take with me and keep just to have something of her. But I simply can't bring myself to do more than lay on the soft bed and plush pillows. Staring out the skylight of the room, I know a few things are fact and cannot be changed.

I want more than anyyhing to have a family.

But I can't because the ones I am related to don't even know I exist.

I will never know them.

I can't take it anymore. Curling up on my side, I take off my breather and begin to cry for the only thing I wish with all my heart I could have.

Maybe in a perfect world I could.

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fic!! I'm super excited to share Menae's story with everyone after so long of her beating against the back door of my head. 
> 
> I welcome constructive feedback, but anything that's just downright mean will be deleted. There's no need for it. Updates will be as often as possible. I'm shooting for once a week, but with life, it may be not quite that often or a bit more often.


End file.
